Like That
by Daaro Moltor
Summary: "'lo?" he manages, voice scratchy beyond recognition. He tries again: "Who am I speaking to?" "Spangles!" Tony exclaims on the other end of the line. "You're awake!" Steve groans and buries his head underneath the pillow. "Yes, I am now, Tony."
1. Chapter 1

There's an ungodly noise from somewhere on his right, and for a moment he thinks he's back on a plane that's shaking to pieces.

He isn't, of course, but that spike of adrenaline is enough to get him from dead asleep to some state of moderate alertness. He flails for his phone – the source of both the noise and the insistent vibrating.

"'lo?" he manages, voice scratchy beyond recognition. He tries again: "Who am I speaking to?"

"Spangles!" Tony exclaims on the other end of the line. "You're awake!"

Steve groans and buries his head underneath the pillow. "Yes, I am _now,_ Tony."

He can't entirely keep the smile of his face, though, and is grateful for both the pillow and the distance for hiding it. Tony needs no encouragement. "Have you forgotten what time of day it is again?"

"Hey, that happened _once_ and I was pretty sure I had revolutionized physics as we knew it."

"You hadn't, though," Steve points out.

"I _could_ have," Tony insists.

"Wasn't that the time you tried to rebuild your microwave because it didn't heat your Hot Pockets quick enough?" Steve asks, emerging from beneath the pillow and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"No, no, it was when I- you know, I don't want to talk about it."

Steve snorts. "Figures."

"Hey, if you're gonna be like that maybe I should just hang up."

"Did you _want_ something, Tony?" Steve asks pointedly.

"Nah," Tony says, "just, you know, bored."

Steve closes his eyes. "Do you know what you can do when you're bored, Tony?"

"Do enlighten me, o captain my captain."

" _Sleep,_ Tony _._ If you're bored, you can go to _sleep._ Actually, if its'…" he lifts the phone from his face and checks the time on the display, " _three thirteen_ in the morning, you can go to sleep even if you're not bored."

"But what if I don't _want_ to sleep?" Tony immediately retorts. "There's so much to do, why waste it on not being awake."

Something in Tony's voice sounds off, but Steve can't pinpoint what.

"Because," Steve says, very patiently, "the occasional hour of sleep makes the rest of them a lot more enjoyable."

"Pffft," Tony says. "Hey, what about Hot Neighbor? Seen any more of her?"

"Dania?" Steve asks, frowning.

"Yeah! Hot lady with the scarves! She's, like, the only good thing about your entire _block."_

"Yes, she's very kind," Steve agrees, "also engaged. To a woman."

"Ah, man, can't win them all. Hey, how's that training with Agent McDick going?"

Steve groans at the reminder. "I _will_ punch him in the face one of these days."

Tony cackles gleefully at the admission. "What did he make you do today?"

" _Laps,"_ Steve said, burying his head in his hands just thinking about it. "Barefoot, without food. Around the building, all day."

"Didn't it rain in D.C. today?" Tony asks.

" _Yes,"_ Steve says, with feeling.

"Well, you know, you should probably report that asshole sometime."

"No," Steve says, shaking his head into the darkness of his bedroom "It's mostly annoying, really. And I know his type, it'll just get worse if I find a way to pull rank on him. I need to get him to respect me."

"Ah, well, whatever you say, cap. Do tell if he needs a missile shoved up his ass, though."

Steve snorts. "I'll make sure to remember that."

"Hey, speaking of asses, did you hear about-"

" _Tony,"_ Steve interrupts, rubbing his eyes. "All that running we just talked about? I do need to actually rest up at some point. Can this maybe be enough for now, so I can sleep, please?"

"Aw, you wound me, cap."

"I'm sure you'll survive," Steve says.

Tony, for some reason, laughs. "Yeah, yeah, sure I will."

Steve breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay, so. Why don't you call in the morning – _proper_ morning – like a normal human being? And I can just go back to my-"

Something crackles sharply in the background, like static on a radio, and interrupts him. Steve is just about to ask about it when the silence suddenly _breaks_ and the line is filled with the unmistakable sound of gunfire.

"Tony?" Steve asks, scrambling to his feet and drowning in a crash of adrenaline, "Tony, what the hell is that?"

"Crap," Tony says, and the joviality is abruptly gone from his voice. "Can you hear that?"

" _Yes,"_ Steve says, strained, "I _can._ What the hell is going on?"

"Fuck, shit," Tony says, more to himself than to Steve, it sounds like, "must be… circuits… suit's worse off than I thought."

" _Suit?"_ Steve asks, resting his fist against the wall. "I swear to God, Tony, you better be talking about your Armani."

"Cap, cap, okay- look, this isn't, you know- isn't something you can do anything about, okay? You couldn't have stopped it, I'm too far away."

"Stopped _what,_ Tony?"

"I called SHIELD first, okay? They said there's nothing they can do. They said they'll try, but they won't come in time."

"Time for _what!?"_

"That's not important, look I nee-"

" _GOD FUCKIN DAMNIT, TONY!"_ Steve yells, and now there's a hole in his wall. " _TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE!"_

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment it's so quiet that Steve thinks that he's been disconnected, that Tony's…

"Steve, listen to me," Tony says then, and Steve's heart starts beating again. "I need to tell you some shit, okay?"

He slides down the wall to his knees, because Tony never sounds this serious. He rests his forehead to the drywall and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Look, I-… fuck it, I honestly can't tell if I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart or if it's the most selfish shit I've pulled, but going on the amount of blood up in here I don't have the time to figure it out."

Breathing… breathing is getting hard now, and it wheezes around the lump in his throat. Still he manages, somehow, to push words out. Even sound halfway collected; plaster some humor over the cracks. "Knowing you, Tony, it's probably the first. Go ahead."

Tony chuckles, and perhaps it's because he knows now, but Steve thinks it sounds wet. "See, it's shit like that-…"

Steve waits a moment, but only hears Tony breath and swallow. "Like what?"

"Look, Steve, my dad fucking loved you."

Steve closes his eyes and wonders if he's about to be yelled at. "I know."

"I did too, you know. When I was a kid. Plastered your bloody face all over my bedroom walls when I was six – and God, isn't that weird to think about now? Dad flipped shit when he saw it, though, and tore it all down. Said- said I didn't know. I think he thought that I didn't deser-…am I rambling? I'm rambling, aren't I?" Tony laughs and Steve doesn't have the heart to join in.

"What did you want to say, Tony?"

Tony draws a deep, _rattling_ breath, and now there's screaming in the background. "You know, just- I hated you for a bit, too. From about the time when I outgrew action figures 'til I was about forty-three. A man isn't supposed to love some dead guy more than his son, y'know?"

Steve pretends he didn't hear the last part, and forces a smile. "You were forty- _two_ when we met, Tony."

"Great math! A plus!" Tony exclaims, and then breaks down into a cough. Steve clenches his jaw. "But, yeah, hated you for a bit there. 'm sure it didn't escape your notice."

"It didn't," Steve says, "but Tony, if that's what you're calling about then-"

"No, no," Tony says, and Steve can practically see the dismissive wave of his hand. "'s not about that. Well, not really. Steve, you- you're a _really_ hard guy to hate, d'you know that?"

"Thanks," Steve says with forced dryness.

"I mean it!" Tony says, obviously cheered by Steve playing along. "You got this puppy thing going on, just nice-ing things up all over the place."

Steve manages a snort.

"I mean it," Tony says again, but suddenly he's perfectly serious. "I _mean_ it. You're genuinely the best person I've ever known. You make me want to do better. Be better. You just-… you light the fucking place up, okay? You're generous, and kind, and… so fucking _polite_ all the time."

"Tony…" Steve says, because this isn't what he wants to hear right now.

Tony just ploughs straight on though. "You make me _happy,_ that's what you do. That's why I need you to-…"

Tony falls quiet, and Steve doesn't have the strength to find words. There's still shooting in the background.

"Steve. I know you've lost a lot. Like, a hell of a lot. Way more than a guy like you should…" Tony trails off, and now Steve doesn't know what's going on.

"Tony…"

"Steve, I'm not humble enough to pretend that I think I don't mean shit to you. I know you… care. About me. Not like… _others_ , but, man, shit piles up. Don't wanna be the straw the broke the captain's back, you know?" Tony laughs and Steve has never heard anything less funny.

"Tony, you're not the same as-"

"Just listen," Tony interrupts, somewhat desperately, and his speech is starting to sound muddled, "Just- I needed to tell you the shit you always hear when people- you know. Die. I needed you to hear it from me. So. Here it comes: I need you to go on, okay? Save people and shit. Move out of that crappy shoebox you call apartment. You're in my will, so, get something nice. Not that you couldn't already afford it."

Steve presses his thumb so hard over the tiny hole for the microphone that it's going white, because his breathing sounds more like sobs at this point and he doesn't want Tony to hear.

Tony keeps talking, and he sounds so out of it that he probably hasn't even noticed how quiet Steve's end of the line is. "Point's, Steve… Don't hate you anymore. You're my best friend. I love you."

There's a noise coming out of Steve's throat that doesn't sound human.

"No homo, okay?" Tony says, still managing to sound like he's amusing himself. "Well, maybe a little bit of homo."

Then the call disconnects.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve doesn't know how he gets into clothes.

Get out of the apartment.

Gets to the office.

Gets onto the helicopter.

Gets onto the jet.

He just does.

And then they're there.

Stark weaponry had unearthed in western Colombia, and Tony naturally hadn't left it alone. Someone tells him on the way over, though Steve wouldn't be able to pick them out of a line-up to save his life.

They also tell him that the suit stopped transmitting life signs three minutes after Steve's cell shows their call disconnected.

Then they tell him Tony's been found.

 _Tony,_ not _the body._

 _Found,_ not _recovered._

He's in a coma at the local hospital, a swarm of shield personnel around him.

Steve finds a deserted corner of the hospital and cries until his lungs hurt. Then he wipes his face and goes to stand by Tony's bedside.

Tony's in a coma for a week, and they don't dare to move him, afraid the stress of it would bring him over the edge. As the days pass, the doctors and nurses slowly disperse. Everyone thinks he's on the brink of death until the moment his eyes blink open.

"Oh god," Tony croaks. "What took a shit and died in my mouth?"

Steve forgets to breathe.

"I had like," Tony says, looking down at himself with a frown, "a majority of my insides on the outside, last I remember."

"Tony," Steve manages to croak.

"Steve!" Tony exclaims, twisting to see him, but then immediately flinches. "Ow."

"Tony," Steve says again, holding his hand out to touch but not actually daring to make contact.

"I don't think I would be in this much pain if I died. On the other hand, you're here, so…"

"Tony," Steve says.

"That's me, buddy, wanna try saying something else?" Tony says with a slightly wobbly grin. "Not that I mind you chanting my name, but-" Tony's face loses color Steve hadn't known it had. "Shit, I called you, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Steve manages to croak. "You did."

"Ah. Hm." Tony says, frowning again. "I'm hoping that what I remember is some kind of fever dream, but if not, can I plead confusion due to blood loss?"

Steve stares.

"Ah, see, that looks like a 'no', on both accounts, so…"

"Tony. You called to make sure that I was alright. While _you_ were dying."

Tony looks slightly bewildered, but then nods franticly. "Ah, uh-hu, yep. That's what I did."

Steve, finally, goes to collapse in the chair by Tony's bedside. Someone had put it in there when they realized that they wouldn't get Steve out the room, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to use it. He can see Tony's face properly from this position – part of the reason as to why he hadn't used it before – and he looks pale, with dark rings under his eyes, and his signature goatee taken over by the general scruff on his cheeks.

Tony's hand lays open and vulnerable outside of the hospital sheets, and Steve takes it in his own. Leans his forehead against the back of it and closes his eyes, for the first time since Tony called him a week ago.

"I thought I heard you die," Steve says, because that's the only thought that's been going through his head for days.

"Ah, well, you know me, always finding a way not to meet expectations."

Steve straightens at this, because he's never enjoyed Tony's brand of particularly harsh self-depreciating humor.

Tony must see something in his eyes, because he hurries to ask: "Hey, not that I'm complaining or anything, but how come I'm not, you know, dead in a ditch?"

Steve shakes his head slightly, because he's barely been able to function these past days, much less actually process what anyone is saying. "I don't know. You… you have to ask one of the doctors. Tony, you…"

Tony waits for him to finish whatever he's saying, and the rather brittle smile slides off his face as the seconds tick by.

"Why didn't you ask for backup?" Steve finally manages, hoarse.

Tony shakes his head. "My mess, my job."

There's so much wrong with that that Steve doesn't even know where to begin, and it's not the first time they've had this argument. He only shakes his head.

Tony's hand starts to wiggle in his grip, and Tony shifts in his bed. "You know what, cap, I'm feeling pretty worn out by this who-"

"Why did you call me?" Steve interrupts.

Tony freezes. Sets his jaw. Then he plasters a smile on his face. "I told you, cap. It was pretty boring in that ditch."

"Tony," Steve says. "Why did you call _me."_

Tony tears his hand out of Steve's. "Okay, that's enough with bothering the almost dead guy, kindly fuck off."

" _Tony."_

" _Steve._ Don't be an ass about-"

"Please."

"I just wanted to hear your voice!" Tony explodes. "That's why I called, okay? Fuck. I didn't mean for you to know, I thought the noise-cancellation would hold up."

"You just let me go on about- _training,_ and-…"

"Yeah, Steve, I did. Do you know why?" Tony asks, sounding both tried and angry. "Because that's what I fucking _wanted_ , okay? I _wanted_ to hear about your day. The rest just… happened."

The ever-present threat of crying suddenly looms larger, and Steve pushes a laugh past the twisted mess in his throat. "You just _happened_ to ask me to go on without you?"

"Oh my _god,"_ Tony says, burying his face in his hands. "You make me sound like a shitty period drama."

Steve just shakes his head. "Tony, why would you…"

Tony grimaces. "Look, okay, I know I'm not, like… _Peggy,_ or Bucky, or something, but, you know. Like I said, shit piles up. I didn't want it to be me that was the final push. I get now that I maybe was a bit optimistic-"

" _Optimistic_?" Steve asks, voice high with disbelief.

For a fraction of a moment, Tony's face crumples with hurt. Then his walls are back up again. "Hey, no need to rub it in, everyone makes mistakes."

"I… what?"

"Steve, really," Tony says, sounding very unamused. "Cut it out. You-"

"Stop, stop," Steve interrupts, because he's starting to think they're talking about two different things here. "What am I rubbing in?"

Tony's jaw snaps shut with a _click,_ and he looks with narrow eyes at Steve. "Yeah, no, aint gonna spell that shit out for you, bud."

A vaguely ill sensation starts twisting in Steve's stomach when he realizes what Tony's talking about. "I-… _Tony,_ I meant it was optimistic of you to think that I'd just be able to move on without you."

Tony blinks and his shoulders fall slightly. "You- what?"

Steve rubs his face with his palms. "You think you don't mean as much to me as Bucky or Peggy did?"

"I- no…?" Tony says, but sounds uncertain now.

"Tony, if you gave me a time-machine right now and told me I could go back, I wouldn't." Steve says. Realizes it's true, even as the words are coming out of his mouth. It feels like a betrayal, a bit, but he knows that the people who knew him then would forgive him for moving on.

Tony looks like Steve just punched him in the face. "What."

"I would choose here. Now. You."

"What," Tony says again, without the right inflection for it to be a question.

"Tony," Steve says, a little exasperated with Tony's disability to believe anyone would think well of him. "You mean the most to me. Out of anyone."

Tony's shaking his head slightly, looking at Steve as though he's grown a second head.

Steve wonders if he should just let that sink in, if it would be fair to push on. His eyes fall on the arc reactor, glowing softly from beneath the bandages around Tony's ribs, and he realizes that he can't wait. Can't bet on having more time.

"I'm… not sure if you remember everything you said on the phone…" Steve starts hesitantly, and Tony makes a strangled noise. Steve ignores it. "I'm not sure if you meant it. I'm not sure if I understood you correctly."

Tony jumps in, making an abortive gesture with his good arm. "Steve, really, there's no-"

"I love you," Steve interrupts. "More than a best friend. I love you."

He frowns, trying to remember the expression Tony used on the phone, but he's doesn't dare try it for fear of misremembering and saying something he doesn't mean.

"I- I love you," is what he ends up saying again.

Tony is staring at him.

Steve flushes, but forces himself to meet Tony's eyes.

Tony is, again, looking at him like he's said something incredible – and not in a good way. Like he's declared allegiance to Hydra. Like he's just told him there's a second nuke that needs to be flown into space.

"Do you need me to say it again?" Steve asks, feeling uncomfortably laid bare, but willing to repeat himself if that's what Tony needs.

"I- no- hm," Tony stutters, and his eyes falls to Steve's lips.

Steve forces himself not to lick them, but can't do anything about the heat flooding his face.

"Are we talking manly-bro-love here, or…?"

"I told you," Steve says, barely holding back a sigh. "More than a best friend."

Tony's eyes snap to his, and now he's looking at him like he's some sort of part of a machine that's misbehaving. Steve tries to stay still.

"So can I kiss you?" Tony says it like a dare, or a threat. Like he's calling Steve out on a lie.

Steve isn't exactly sure if that's a good premise for a first kiss, but he climbs carefully up on Tony's bed nevertheless. Tony stares at him like he's doing something insane, so Steve says: "Go ahead."

Tony does nothing.

Steve leans down and kisses him, and doesn't stop until Tony is moaning beneath him.

Steve doesn't realize he's winded until he tries to speak.

"Like that," he manages, and is barely sure what he means himself.

Tony, though, seems to finally get it.

"Okay," he says, grin breaking on his face. "Like that."


End file.
